Possession
by verden
Summary: Peter pays a visit to the factory to take Carla for lunch. Set in mid-February.
1. Chapter 1

**Possession**

_This is set around the time of the Friday 17th Feb episode, and is my attempt at the type of scene I'd like to see. Hope you like & reviews always appreciated!_

The midday sun glinted on the cobbles as Peter left the bookies and walked over to the factory. Reaching the front door, he hesitated for a few seconds, fiddling with his cufflink, still uncertain whether to go in.

He'd kept away from Frank lately, for good reason. His smugness and wide-eyed innocence had been nauseating enough, even before the sham that was the trial. Reluctantly Peter had to admit he was scared of coming face to face with him again. Frank knew exactly how to provoke him. One day he might just go too far.

But today was about Carla. If he was going to surprise her, there was no other option. His mind made up, he pushed open the factory doors and walked in purposefully. The murmurs from her workers showed the gossip hadn't died down yet. But he wasn't in the mood for a chat, so with just an offhand greeting, he headed straight towards the office.

Michelle, Sally and Frank were all in today, but his eyes fell only on Carla in the moment before he opened the door. She was hunched over some files, obviously tense in the awkward atmosphere, her jaw set in determination. Then as she looked up and saw him, her face brightened and a slow smile played across her lips.

"Hey love" he greeted, conscious of Frank's cold stare.

"Ah, the boyfriend". Frank's voice was smooth, but with disdain in every syllable. "Wondered when you'd show up."

"Frank..". Although Carla spoke softly, her tone of warning quietened him for now, and Peter wondered at her stubborn strength. While she was anything but unscathed by it, how did she manage to stay in the same room as him at all?

"Hiya" Carla walked over to Peter, slightly frowning. "Everything OK?"

"Course it is" he reassured her, his hand on her arm. "I've come to take you for lunch".

Pointedly ignoring Frank and Sally, he glanced at Michelle.

"Can you spare her for a couple of hours?"

Smiling, Michelle nodded.

"Reckon we'll manage."

"Sounds good to me" Carla leaned in closer to him, clearly relieved at the idea of escaping the office.

Noticing Frank's quick but menacing glance at them, Peter suddenly felt the urge to rub it in. That bastard thought he could control everything and get his own way, but he couldn't even control his own emotions. Jealousy most of all.

Possessively reaching his arm around Carla, Peter kissed her gently. After all the weeks of secrecy, he still felt a thrill in being able to publicly claim her as his. Especially in front of the man who wanted to destroy them.

She returned his kiss for a moment, her lips softly lingering against his. Then she broke away, knowing they'd had the effect they wanted.

"See you later" she called to Michelle, as Peter took her hand. Then they strolled out of the office with just a cursory glance back.

"That's right. Go and flaunt your infidelity somewhere else" Sally called after them, but no-one was listening.

.

Back out in the sunshine, he was relieved to feel her tension begin to fall away, and she seemed almost light-hearted.

Realising how uptight he'd felt in the factory, he allowed himself to relax too, relishing the freedom of a two hour lunch break. In the bright light, it felt almost like spring already and he felt his spirits lifting.

"Did you see his face?" he asked, smirking.

"Oh yes." She giggled. "Probably shouldn't make a habit of that. But it had to be done didn't it."

"I should whisk you away for lunch more often."

"Definitely". She stopped, pushing him against the wall playfully. "Which reminds me, where are you whisking me to?"

He smiled.

"Well, it's up to you. I could take you to a nice Italian place in town. Very swanky. Candle-lit tables an' all."

"Sounds good."

"Or there's a chip shop right there" he gestured with his hand "and a flat above a bookies…."

She laughed sarcastically.

"You do spoil me"

"I do my best..." He felt a rush of gratitude that even amid Frank's vindictiveness and Simon's resentment, she was still able to be happy.

"And in this flat…" she asked, tilting her head "would it just be you and me?"

"Si's at school and Deirdre's minding the shop"

"And what if I get chip fat all over my new top" she said.

He grinned. "I'll help you change into something else"

She raised her eyebrows. "Not so subtle, this plan, is it."

"Just joking." He stroked her arm "I wanted to spend time with you. A proper date. Let's go into town."

She took his hand again as they walked towards his car, tightening her grip at the disapproving looks from their neighbours. Unsure if her reaction was defiance or insecurity, he stroked her hand softly.

He knew his neighbours were just looking out for Leanne. He knew he should feel guilty. But on a day like this he couldn't help but feel exhilarated that the woman he was with was finally the woman he loved.

.

Then she suddenly stopped.

"But you know what, I actually do feel like chips."

"Is that a decision?" he asked, feigning grumpiness, but inwardly quite pleased.

Laughing, she led him over to the chip shop. Then seeing the long queue, he suggested

"Why don't you go on ahead, and I'll get these. My treat eh"

"What a gentleman." she teased. "OK, see you in a minute"

With a quick kiss on his cheek, she left. He watched her admiringly as she strode away to the flat.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for reviews of chapter 1! Couldn't decide whether to go for drama, guilt or romance, so have tried for a mixture... Hope you enjoy._

Carla couldn't keep the smile off her face as she headed to the bookies. She loved it when Peter surprised her. In the office just minutes ago, she'd been more miserable than she'd ever admit. But when he'd arrived spontaneously, promising two hours of freedom, kissing her softly, suddenly nothing else seemed important at all.

She went upstairs to the flat, keeping quiet to avoid a confrontation with Deirdre. From the size of the queue at the chip shop, Peter would be a few minutes yet, but she set the table, pouring a Coke for him and water for herself. Then, looking down at her designer top, recently discovered in a Cheshire boutique, she decided she would get changed after all.

After a moment's hesitation, she walked into Peter's bedroom. Even after a week spent there, she couldn't think of it as hers. Strange that the flat that had been off-limits for so long was now her home. Like waking from a dream, everything seemed unreal, like it might fade as she turned away, even the solid metal of her own door-keys that she clutched tightly in her hand. Alone, she still felt on edge, jumpy, as if she feared Leanne might find out she was here. But at least when Peter was there, she felt like she belonged. Somehow their need for each other made them both complete.

She smiled, noticing how she'd begun to take over his room already, her clothes bursting out of the open wardrobe, her boots lined up in a neat row by the wall, her CDs piled by the bed. Peter had done his best to make her feel welcome. He'd cleared space for her, moving all Leanne's things somewhere out of sight, she couldn't bear to ask where. But the practicalities couldn't hide her recurring feeling that she'd completely stepped into her former friend's life. Taking possession of Leanne's husband. Her flat. Even her bed.

But not her son. That was increasingly clear. However much Carla tried to hide it, it stung badly each time Simon lashed out at her. Yet she couldn't help but admire Simon's loyalty to Leanne. Perhaps she should have given them more time before she moved in. As much as she needed Peter, Simon must need him more. Still, Peter wanted things this way, and who was she to question his parenting? Carla, the heartless home-wrecker. And that was just in her own words. She shuddered, realising the enormity of the choices she had made.

.

As she remained standing by the bed, lost in growing anxiety, she heard Peter come into the flat, and after a moment, the door opened behind her.

"Hey babe" he said softly, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"That was quick" she whispered, leaning against him to feel the comforting stubble of his cheek against hers.

"I rushed back" he said, kissing her hair.

"Good" she mumbled.

"Hope you like salt and vinegar…"

"Mmm…" she agreed, relaxing into him, but her mind still slightly distracted.

"You seem quiet." he said, swaying her from side to side as they stood together. "What's up?"

"Nothing" she replied quickly, not wanting to spoil their lunch with her worries about Simon. With an effort, she put her doubts to the back of her mind. "Just deciding what to wear."

"We're having chips, love. Not caviar."

"Don't I know it" She turned round so she could see him properly. "You smell like a deep fat fryer."

"Charming" He rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"Aww.." She kissed his neck softly. "I'm not complaining."

"Shall we have lunch then?" He released her gently and went to the wardrobe. Picking the first casual top he saw, he threw it over to her.

"Why don't you wear that?"

"Impatient are we?"

"Well, if we finish quickly, might still be time for a walk or something."

Smiling, she took off her top, hanging it up carefully, loving how Peter couldn't take his eyes off her. Then quickly putting on the outfit he'd chosen, she headed into the living room.

"I'd prefer the 'or something'" she called back at him.

.

Carla pushed her plate away with a sigh. She'd been enjoying having lunch together, hearing about his day, but barely halfway through her lunch she already felt full.

Peter glanced at her, seeming to pick up her shift in mood.

"Hope you're not thinking about that place?" he asked.

"That place happens to be my business" she shot back defensively. She'd been thinking about Simon more than the factory, but the situation with Frank was always in her mind.

"Sorry." he looked down, taking another chip. "It just got to me. Seeing you there. Him gloating at the next desk. It made it all seem real."

"Oh it's real all right" she answered bitterly.

"Well, at least we got our own back today, didn't we" he reached for her hand, making her smile as she remembered the jealous look on Frank's face.

Then an uncomfortable thought occurred to her.

"Not sure if that was the best plan in the world though"

"What do you mean?". He looked puzzled.

"Antagonising a rapist.." she pointed out. "I mean, he's already out to destroy us."

"Oh God." Peter put his head in his hands. "That's my fault. I didn't think about you facing him later."

"No, don't say that." she interrupted. "I wanted to make him jealous just as much as you did."

"If he steps out of line this afternoon…". Peter looked furious.

"Oh he's smarter than that" Carla sighed. "He'll wait til he can get his own back some other way"

"Well I'll warn him."

Carla sighed, shrugging sadly.

"Warn him to do what? Leave the business he owns? Keep away from the woman he legally didn't rape?"

Peter's anger increased.

"He's got it all wrapped up hasn't he"

"Oh yes." she said quietly. "There's not a thing we can do."

"I hate him, Carla." he burst out, his aggression startling her, as he stood and paced over to the other side of the room. "I know it doesn't help, when you're the one working there every day. But I hate him and I'm going to tell him this can't go on any longer."

"Just empty threats and he knows it."

"Oh, he knows I'd do it"

Carla could suddenly imagine exactly how he'd attacked Frank last time. It scared her, seeing him out of control, his breathing fast, his knuckles white with anger.

She tried to reason with him.

"Peter, if you go near him, you're the one they'd arrest."

"It'd be worth it." His voice was now cold, distant.

Feeling panicked that he might actually go through with this, Carla moved subtly to keep between him and the front door. She couldn't bear the idea of trying to deal with everything without Peter.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry it's taken a while but here's chapter 3... Thanks for all your reviews and your patience!_

Carla stepped slowly over to Peter, increasingly concerned at his flaring temper. He'd moved to the window, glaring out at the street, his hand tapping against the pane in agitation.

"Whatever we do, he wins. But if you threaten him, we lose all over again." Carla found herself pleading now. "Don't let me lose you."

But he seemed to have tuned her out.

Trying to get through to him, she placed her hand gently on his shoulder, feeling his tension like a coiled spring. Unsettled, she withdrew her hand.

"I know Frank's a nightmare.." she continued searching for a way to calm him down. "But I can deal with it. Just about". Her voice wavered, as she couldn't deny her continual fear that maybe she couldn't.

Then Peter furiously spun around. His words came out in a torrent of anger.

"After all you've been through, you shouldn't have to deal with it. With **_him_**". As he shouted, his finger jabbed angrily in the direction of the factory.

In shock, she stepped back, and found herself looking directly at him, her senses suddenly alert and sharpened.

His eyes, usually so tender and warm, seemed filled with hate. His intense glare seemed to look right past her, as if already planning his revenge on Frank. His rage was all she was aware of. His face, taut with anger, the sound of his heavy breathing, the muscles standing out on his neck, his tensed forearms.

And then the vivid memory of Frank hit her. Her breath failed her, as her senses took her right back to that night, and her body tensed with terror. Her mind was filled with the attack: his strength, his imposing presence, and his violence. A sudden panic took over and the world seemed to close in.

Peter seemed to notice something, but his eyes were still shaded with anger as he reached his hand to her arm. Flinching as if burnt, Carla pulled away. Stepping back clumsily from him, she half-fell into a chair, burying her head in her hands.

Through the panic, she grasped for advice from her counselling sessions. She'd had to recount every detail of the attack. As if words could ever describe what had happened. What he'd done. Everyone had said the trauma would fade with time, but they must have lied. Now every memory was back, alive, more vivid than ever. As Frank's face came back into her mind, she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, desperate to obliterate him.

With rising desperation, she dismissed the counselling and fell back on a familiar approach. Trying to flood her mind with better memories, she forced her thoughts away from Frank to anything else. But this was even worse. Her mind turned to Liam, Tony, the factory burning, her mother. So many people she'd lost. And because of Frank, she was still losing.

Distantly she became aware of Peter's voice, her name being called, more and more insistently. A sudden determination came to her. She wouldn't lose Peter. She would get through this. She forced herself to breathe slowly, gradually bringing herself back to the moment, aware of Peter kneeling next to her. Opening her eyes, she felt disorientated, feeling that hours had gone by, when it was probably less than a minute. She realised her cheeks were damp, silent tears falling.

.

Again she felt Peter's hand on her arm, and again she shook him off. Last time her flashback had been triggered by him pushing her against the wall. But this time, it was Peter himself. She still couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze, fearing seeing that look in his eyes again.

Instead, staring at a distant point in the room, she managed to find words, her dry throat making her voice raspy.

"Give me five minutes, eh"

Seeing her discomfort, he passed her the glass of water, and she drained it in seconds.

"I'm so sorry" he pleaded, leaning into her. He sounded shaken and she realised how much her reaction must have scared him. She wanted to apologise but feared that explaining might trigger the flashback again.

"Please forgive me.." he begged.

But it was still too much. She stood shakily, supporting herself with a hand on the chair arm. Moving to the sofa, she put more distance between them, needing her personal space. He hung his head, looking ashamed.

"Are you OK?" he asked hesitantly from across the room.

She thought for a moment. When had she last really been OK?

"I wasn't." she admitted. Then with sudden determination. "But I will be."

He sighed.

"I'll never forgive myself. Losing my temper like that"

She looked down, fiddling with her nails.

"It wasn't you really. It just triggered…. ". She couldn't finish the sentence, but she knew he understood.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Well…" she considered, wanting him occupied for a few moments while she recovered herself. "Make yourself useful eh – make some proper coffee"

He nodded, heading to the kitchen, picking up the cafetiere.

"Decaff though" she called after him. "I think we're both wound up enough today.."

Then she closed her eyes and tried to get her thoughts together.

.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks for all your reviews – here's chapter 4, still set in mid-February, although the show events have overtaken it pretty spectacularly now!_

As Peter put the kettle on, Carla was trying to make sense of what had just happened. Curling back into the corner of the sofa, she clutched her knees to her chest for comfort. Her skin felt clammy now the panic of the flashback had subsided. Her emotions were all over the place, but she wanted to face them head-on.

It was no secret that she'd boxed up her feelings in the months after his attack. But what choice did she have? She couldn't run away forever. The factory needed her. When she'd relived the pain and betrayal in the courtroom, no-one believed her anyway. In the aftermath of that trial, how could anyone blame her if she'd pushed it to the back of her mind again?

Her bruises had long since faded away. She'd learnt to cope with the mental scars once the nightmares became less frequent. Now that she slept in Peter's arms every night, she no longer dreaded turning out the light, the hours of darkness when sleep wouldn't take her or the noises that suddenly woke her, alert and breathless.

But had anything really healed? And could it, with Frank there every day, reopening old wounds? This flashback had been far worse than last time. The memories were so vivid, so intense. Looking down, she almost expected to see the marks again on her wrists.

She was beginning to think that this was a wake-up call she'd needed. Maybe she had to get worse before she could get better. Hugging her knees even closer, she took a deep breath, letting her eyelids close again as the music washed over her.

_ You won't waste away, __under my watchful eye__  
><em>_ Because I'm your hero and you're my weakness  
>Who's gonna break my fall when the spinning starts?<br>The colours bleed together and fade. Was it ever there at all.  
><em>_ Or have I lost my way?  
><em>_ The path of least resistance is catching up with me again today  
><em>

A certainty dawned: she couldn't risk another flashback. The next might be even worse. With a rush of horror, she imagined Simon seeing her like that. Or if she had a panic attack in Frank's presence.

Silently she resolved to herself that she'd start seeing the councillor again. But she wouldn't tell anyone. It would be admitting her weakness all over again. Even with Peter, she wanted to keep some semblance of independence. A shade of the self-reliant woman she used to be.

Her decision made, she slouched back into the sofa, comforted by the sounds of Peter making the coffee, wondering when she'd ever regain the strength to cope by herself.

.

Careful not to alarm her again, Peter gently placed two cups on the kitchen counter, trying to muffle the sound. As he filled the cafetiere he kept glancing over, conflicted with concern and shame for his part in upsetting her. How could he have forgotten how fragile she was? How could he let his temper get so out of control?

The last time he'd attacked Frank, it had almost ended his relationship with Leanne. For a moment just now, he'd thought he'd lost Carla too. The way she'd flinched away from him. He couldn't forget the haunted look in her eyes, and then how she'd shrunk into herself, her eyes squeezed tightly. Sealing her emotions inside, and shutting him out.

The moment he realised what had happened, his anger had gone, dissipated like ripples in a pond. He blamed himself. Now he'd give anything just to see a smile on her face again. He vowed if she'd allow him to make it up to her, he wouldn't let her down this time.

He poured the coffee and brought her cup over, putting it down on the table in front of her. Then, not wanting to crowd her, dreading her rejection again, he sat at the far end of the sofa. They still had a while left of their lunch break, and he had to make sure she'd be OK.

She smiled weakly, as she reached for the cup and took a slow sip.

"I'm really sorry" he said again, pained that she still wouldn't look directly at him.

"I know." She looked down. It felt like she'd put up a wall between them, and he just couldn't get through it.

"Sweetheart…". He pleaded softly, trying to draw her out. Finally, slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his, and her expression began to soften.

Eventually she moved across the sofa until her shoulder was pressing against his. He felt such relief. Then after a moment she put her arm around him. Not wanting to scare her, he kept his hands resting by his side.

Slowly she ran her finger down his shoulder, stroking the muscles on his forearm, seeming to want reassurance that he was no longer a threat. Then she looked over at him, a slight smile on her face at last.

"I'm glad you're on my side."

He sighed as the guilt hit him again. He should have been protecting her from that bastard. Not reminding her of him.

"Could have found a better way of showing you though, couldn't I."

"Can't argue with you there." she replied quickly, but her tone was light-hearted now.

She moved closer into him, leaning her head against his chest, and at last he gently allowed himself to put his arms around her. He held her, breathing in her scent, feeling so grateful that she'd let him get close to her again.

"Just promise me…" Her voice trailed off.

"Whatever you want."

"No more playing the hero." She spoke firmly now. "No more violence. No more threats."

He nodded despite his unease. While he'd vowed to do anything for her, would making this promise really help? Men like Frank thrived on power. If Peter backed down, Frank had won by default.

"All right.." he mumbled, hoping this would satisfy her.

"I mean it, Peter."

Unconvinced, she pulled his face toward her. "I need you here. Simon needs his dad."

He sighed, seeing the truth in her words. But he wished he didn't. His anger had brought him a clarity of mind, almost exhilarating in its simplicity. Now, thinking rationally, it seemed harder than ever to find a way out of this mess.

He'd seen for months how every time she managed to get her head above the water again, something had dragged her back down. He'd usually been able to save her. He'd even missed Tracey's wedding for her.

But was he really helping her, or was she just dragging him down too? And Simon with them. He'd been seconds away from storming off to attack Frank. Moments from arrest. From prison even. With Frank around, it was sink or swim, and he could see she was drowning.

Searching for a promise he could make, he decided he could at least avoid making the first threat. Maybe that would be enough for now.

"I promise I won't threaten him." he replied, kissing her forehead, trying to silence her doubts. "Promise me something too though."

"You strike a hard bargain." she teased him.

"Hard-nosed businessman me" he replied, playing along.

"Yeah right.." she scoffed. "What's this promise then?"

.

_Sorry this chapter's been a bit introspective again (although I can't help wishing they'd do more thinking on the show… they might fall off the wagon/get arrested somewhat less often…). Anyway there'll be more conversation in the next._

__(by the way, the song's called Again Today by Brandi Carlile)__


	5. Chapter 5

_I've finally got back to this story – sorry for the long break and thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far!_

Peter considered a moment, wondering how best to phrase his question, fearing her defences would come up again. Especially after her flashback had brought her vulnerabilities back to the surface.

"If this all gets too much for you, Carla.." He paused, stealing a look at her to check her reaction. "Promise me you'll get out of that factory. Don't let Frank break you."

Even as she met his gaze, he could sense her withdrawing into herself.

"You think I can't cope any more..."

He wished it had even been a question.

"You know that's not what I mean." he said instantly. "Just if it ever got to that point…"

Then with relief, he saw a flash of defiance cross her face.

"Like I'd give him the satisfaction."

He smiled weakly.

"But just to set my mind at ease, will you promise."

Her arms folding, she shrugged.

"Alright, I promise".

Seeing the flicker in her eye, knowing her stubbornness, Peter found her answer no more convincing than his own promise a moment before. But he decided to let it go.

Looking down at her, he thought back to the days, not even that long ago, when honesty had been their closest bond. Why was it all so much harder now they'd built a life together? Now her problems were also his, the truth sometimes seemed impossible.

And did it matter anyway? Even if they'd both made promises they couldn't keep, it was only to protect each other. He'd fallen in love with Carla because of her spirit, her humour, her determination. If she'd back down from a fight just to stop him worrying, would she still be the same woman?

In confusion he turned away, wondering when right and wrong had become so blurred.

Then Carla's sudden laugh broke into his thoughts. As he looked over, she moved her hand across her face.

"God. I must look a right state."

"You look beautiful" he assured her.

"Tear-stained and desperate more like" She stood up. "Better wash my face."

He watched her until she disappeared into the bathroom. Then he took his mobile out, checking that the cushion would hide it from her view if she returned suddenly. He suppressed a momentary pang of guilt at going behind her back, but he needed to be sure. He sent his text as quickly as possible. Then putting his phone into silent mode, he returned it to his pocket.

.

On her return, Carla seemed refreshed. Her make-up was perfect again and she seemed closer to her usual self. This time, instead of sitting by him, she stretched out along the sofa, her teasing smile inviting him to join her.

Lying down beside her, he drew her closer, her head against his shoulder as she burrowed into him. As he felt her relax into her arms, he longed to be able to hold her all afternoon.

"I wish there was something I could do to make this all better" he whispered, stroking her arm gently.

"You can" she said softly.

He looked at her quizzically.

"Just kiss me" she said flirtatiously, leaning up towards him.

He allowed himself to forget everything else as he lowered his lips to hers.

.

Eventually, with reluctance, Carla broke away from his kisses.

She could so easily get carried away, but knowing their lunch break was almost over, she realised she had to broach the subject that had been on her mind earlier.

"I was thinking, Peter. I might go to my flat this evening."

Concern filled Peter's face.

"Is this because of.. before?"

She breathed deeply, her hand stroking his shoulder.

"No, I was thinking about it earlier anyway. I need a long bath and a quiet night."

"You can have a bath here."

"No offence darlin' " she tried to lighten his mood. "Let's not kid ourselves that your bathroom's as nice as mine."

"Point taken." He couldn't help a smirk at some old memories as she continued.

"And I need to pick up a few things. Clothes and that."

"There's more..?" he asked, feigning shock. "Want a walk-in wardrobe too?"

"Well now you mention it.." she played along.

He laughed, then became serious again.

"You're not going back there because of Simon are you?"

She sighed, realising she needed to explain more clearly how she felt.

.


End file.
